For the next weeks I gave myself up to him entirely. I was with him all the day. I watched over his meals, and if I thought he was a little weary, I insisted on his taking them in his bedchamber. There we would eat together.

I have the greatest satisfaction in remembering that my son was happier during that time than at any other.

And what was so heartening was that his health began to improve.

If Richard could have been with us, I think I should have been completely happy. I was the best remedy Edward could have. My loving care was better than any physician.

On some days we rode together, but I would not allow him to be too long in the saddle, although sometimes he wanted to be.

All through the long golden days of September this way of life continued and at the end of each day I would thank God for the improvement in my son. I was able to assure myself that he was going to grow into a strong man.

Perhaps it was folly to believe good can last. The blow came from an unexpected quarter.

Trouble must have been fermenting for a long time before I had a hint of it. Perhaps I should have known there would be some discord. Richard had come to the throne in an unusual manner. Edward's son was still in the Tower with his brother, and the young always touch the hearts of the people. Richard was surrounded by enemies. He, more than any, knew he lacked the charismatic charm of his brother. The people forgave Edward his sins because he was so handsome and charming. Not so Richard. Richard was sober, hard-working, trying to do his duty, to lead the country into what would be best for it. But he was not handsome and he rarely smiled.

The people could not love him as they had Edward only those in the north would be faithful to him because they felt he belonged to them.

It was to be expected that the Marquis of Dorset would make trouble if he could. He was, after all, Elizabeth Woodville's son. He had tried to scheme with Hastings and Jane Shore. Hastings had lost his head and Jane Shore her possessions; but the wily marquis had lived to fight another day.

Naturally he would seize his chance. But what so shocking, so outrageous, was that his accomplice should be the Duke of Buckingham.

I could understand Richard's dismay and when I heard what had happened which was not until some time after this had taken place I reproached myself because I had not been with him.

Yet in my heart I knew I had been right to come back to Middleham to nurse my son.

What had happened seemed unbelievable when I remembered Buckingham's enthusiasm for Richard's claim to the throne. He had been the one to make the announcement and to have his men shout for Richard in the Guildhall. I remembered how he had outdone everyone else at the coronation in his magnificence his badge of the burning cartwheel displayed on the trappings of his horse, his enormous retinue which had reminded people how my father used to travel in his case displaying the Ragged Staff instead of Buckingham's Stafford Knot.

It was inexplicable. What could have happened to make him change his allegiance so suddenly?

I could only think it was some private ambition which had brought about the change. He had a flimsy claim to the throne. His mother was Margaret Beaufort, daughter of Edmund, second Duke of Somerset. Henry the Fourth had tried to exclude the descendants of John of Gaunt and Catherine Swynford from the succession, but there was a theory that this would be illegal as they had been legitimised. But, of course, if Buckingham was indeed in line to the throne, there was one who came before him and that was Henry Tudor, Earl of Richmond, whose mother was that Margaret Beaufort, daughter of John Beaufort, first Duke of Somerset. She had married Edmund Tudor and Henry was her only son. She was now married to Lord Stanley, for Edmund Tudor had died at an early age and Henry Tudor had been brought up by his uncle Jasper Tudor, and he was the son of Henry the Fifth's widow, Katharine, and Owen Tudor.

Lady Stanley was a forceful and formidable lady, harbouring high ambitions for her son Henry who was at present in exile in Brittany, no doubt very closely watching events in England.

Buckingham's defection may be traced to an accidental meeting with Lady Stanley when he was travelling between Worcester and Bridgnorth. Buckingham was most impulsive and reckless; the only man I ever knew to rival him in that way was Clarence. They were both feckless and ready to act without giving very much thought as to what the consequence of that action might be. I felt sure this was what had happened to Buckingham.

He was faintly disgruntled because he had not yet received the Bohun estates which Richard had promised should be his, and consequently he was ready to listen to Lady Stanley.

Moreover, he had been on very good terms with Morton who was his so-called prisoner in his castle. The bishop was a shrewd and clever man who would know how to handle Buckingham. Morton was a Lancastrian who would be delighted to see the red rose flourishing again. Richard had completely misunderstood the characters of both Buckingham and Morton, and it had been a great mistake to put them together. They were schemers, both of them, but whereas Morton was firm in his support of the Lancastrians, Buckingham would sway this way and that according to his feelings at the moment. And at this time he was veering away from Richard; and between them, Buckingham and Morton hatched a plot.

It would be desirable, they decided, to see the Houses of York and Lancaster united. This could be done by the marriage of Henry Tudor to Elizabeth of York, King Edward's eldest daughter. Dorset would be willing to work for such an end because it would bring the Woodvilles back into prominence; and it would rid them of the man who stood in their way: Richard the Third.

They had invited Henry Tudor to come to England with what forces he could muster; and the uprising was planned for the eighteenth of October; and when Buckingham raised his standard at Brecknock, it was inevitable that Richard should get news of the intended attack.

Richard was at his best in such a situation. He quickly marshalled his forces. Luck was with him. There had been heavy rains on the Welsh borders and the Severn and the Wye were in full flood and impassable. Buckingham could not join his allies who were to arrive in a fleet provided by the Duke of Brittany.

Thankfully, the entire mission was ill-fated. A storm dispersed the fifteen ships so that Henry Tudor, with Dorset, was unable to land, and could do nothing but return to Brittany.

Buckingham's attempt to replace Richard had failed.

Richard was incensed. His own motto was "Loyaulte me Lie" and he had adhered to it throughout his life. There was nothing he hated more than disloyalty.

He denounced Buckingham as 'the most untrue man living' and a price of one thousand pounds was put on his head, and when he fell into Richard's hands there would be no mercy. Richard would remember Hastings another one-time friend turned traitor and he had lost his head the very day he was denounced.

I wondered how Buckingham had felt he, the flamboyant nobleman who regarded himself as of royal descent a fugitive fleeing for his life.

He went northwards to Shropshire and made his way to one of his old retainers, a certain Ralph Bannister, who helped him and set him up in a hut in the woods surrounding his house at Lacon.

Poor foolish Buckingham! He learned that there were others beside himself ready to betray for the sake of gain. The reward of one thousand pounds was irresistible to Bannister; and one morning Buckingham awoke to find himself surrounded by guards.

They took him to Salisbury on a charge of treason. Buckingham was ever hopeful. He begged for an audience with the king. There was so much he could explain, he declared, if only he had the chance to do so.

Richard was adamant. Buckingham had betrayed him. There was no friendship left between them.The penalty for treason was death and proud Buckingham who had possessed great wealth, known greater power, who had dreamed wild dreams, lost his head ignobly in the market place.

My thoughts during that time were mostly with Richard. I felt that I should be with my son. My son's health was somewhat improved but not sufficiently for him to undertake a long journey. I did not want him to be submitted to the rigours of court life. While he was at Middleham in the keen fresh air, living a comparatively simple life, I believed his health would improve.

Richard wrote urging me to join him.

I tried to explain to Edward. I told him that I would be back soon and if he. did everything he was told and did not overtire himself, and took the nourishing food which was prepared for him, he would soon be well enough to join his father and me. In any circumstances we should see each other soon.

And so I joined Richard.

My husband was so pleased to see me that I knew I had been right to come. I guessed that the defection of Buckingham was still very much on his mind.

"There is no one I can talk to as I do to you, Anne," he said.

"I know not whom else I can trust."

"I would not have believed this of Buckingham." I replied.

"I should have been more watchful of him. He was never stable. Sometimes I wonder I looked at him questioningly as he paused.

But he went on: "He was the one who was so insistent that I take the throne. He believed Stillington absolutely ... then to turn like that! And to Henry Tudor!"

"I have heard but little of this Henry Tudor."

"An upstart who thinks he has a claim to the throne."

"But how could he?"

"You know these Beauforts. They are so ambitious and strong. They are a bastard branch of the family and should never have been recognised as anything else. Their forebears were born before John of Gaunt married Catherine Swynford. But because they were legitimised ... well, it has given them ideas of their importance. Buckingham had these because his mother was one of them. And now Henry Tudor is another. He thinks he has a claim through Katharine, the French princess who married Henry the Fifth when he conquered so much of France."

"He is in Brittany now?"

"Yes, sheltered and aided by Duke Francis of that place. I have my enemies, Anne."

"And you have those who love you."

"I have you and Edward, that is true. Anne, what of the boy?"

I said: "He is a little better."

"And what thought he when I wanted you to be here with me?"

"He understood. I have promised him that when he grows a little stronger he shall be with us both."

"Ah, if only that could be! The people need to see him. They like to know their future king."

"That is for years and years ahead."

"It is for God to decide. But the people would like to see him."

"I fear his health would not allow him to come this time."

"Then we must pray that it soon will be. How goes Warwick at Sheriff Button?"

"Well, I believe. He rides and exercises well. Learning does not come easily to him." That is a pity."

"He is a pleasant, good-natured boy. It is just that he does not think quickly and is slow at his lessons. He cannot read yet. Edward is so different."

"Oh yes, our son lacks nothing in the head. If he could but combine the physique of young Warwick and his own learning, what a boy we should have!"

"We have the most wonderful boy in the world, and I am going to nurse him back to health. In years to come you and I,are going to laugh at our fears."

"I pray you will be proved right." he said fervently. I forced myself to believe it and gave my attention to Richard. I learned how deeply wounded he had been by Buckingham's disloyalty. The hurt was far greater then I had at first realised.

"Why, Anne?" he said to me on one occasion.

"He has even set in motion evil rumours about me."

"People listen to rumours but do they really believe them?"

"Rumour is pernicious." said Richard.

"People absorb the slanderous words and then in time some of them accept them as truth. Buckingham would have made me out a monster ... a man of no loyalty or principles, with no right to the throne of England."

"But it was he who pressed you to take it!""He could not say that I had arranged for Stillington to betray the truth, though I am sure he would have liked to."

"He would have Stillington to contend with."

"No doubt that was what made him refrain. But he has set about one very unpleasant rumour ... a very disturbing one."